


and the fever, getting higher

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Following
Genre: F/M, Het, Post Series, Rare Pairings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Carroll case is finished, Mike waits for Debra outside the hearing room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the fever, getting higher

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this now in the fear/expectation that in about 48 hours, and if not then, then a week later, it will be Jossed out of existence. And I will cry many many tears.   
> For the square "desire" on my love_bingo card. Title from the U2 song "Desire"

He's waiting for her when the doors open and she walks out of the hearing room. He's expecting her to look bad - his time in front of the committee had been horrendous and he hadn't been the one in charge - but she still has the power to surprise him. She looks tired, sure; drained, even, which is to be expected after three full days of answering the same questions over and over again.

But she still looks good.

Her hair is pulled back, looped around in some kind of messy bun at the nape of her neck; his fingers itch to pull it loose. What he can see of her dress underneath her blazer is some kind of red and black checkered pattern, form fitting and falling to her knees, giving him an unobstructed view of a killer pair of legs. He takes a moment to look at her, admire her, but only a moment - after all, he still doesn't know who might be watching them.

He pushes back the desire he feels - something he's had a lot of practice at - to call her name.  

"Agent Parker."

He calls her name with what he hopes is a smile in his voice; he thinks it might have missed something when she startles, turns sharply towards him like she's forgotten what he sounds like in the time they've been apart. When she realises who it is, her features relax into a smile. "Weston."

Mike shrugs, walks over to her. "You're not my boss anymore," he reminds her. "You can call me Mike." He juts his chin towards the door she's just come through. "Should I even ask how it went?"

Debra actually groans and rolls her eyes. "I feel like I've trampled by a herd of wild horses," she tells him frankly and all he can do is nod.

"I know that feeling." Tilting his head in the direction of the exit he asks, "You want to get out of here? Get a drink? Dinner?"

She bites her lip, considering. For a long moment, he's sure she's going to say no. Then she smiles at him and he has to fight to catch his breath. "That sounds nice."

*

They go to a small Italian place not too far from their hotel. Mike's been there before, knows it's quiet which matters because their faces are recognised now, knows the food is good which matters because Debra looks like it's been a while since she's had a decent meal. They chat about anything but the hearing, anything but the Carroll case, choosing instead to focus on what they've been doing over the last few weeks, where they are now and where they're going next.

Professionally, that is.

They've ordered and each has a glass of red wine before them when Debra reaches up and back, takes her hair down and lets it fall around her shoulders. She's already taken off her blazer, revealing that her dress is sleeveless and Mike swallows hard, trying not to be too obvious about it. Just like he tries not to notice the way her fingers curl around the bowl of her wine glass, the same way that he remembers them curling around his arms, or the way that her eyes look in the dim light of the restaurant.

When their eyes meet and she smiles at him, he suddenly knows that whatever he's feeling, it's not just him.

*

The food is as good as Mike promised her it would be and she cleans her plate, all three courses. When the last bite of tiramisu vanishes, she leans back with a contented smile. "I needed that," she says, and Mike holds his glass up in salute.

"You earned it," he tells her and vows that it's the nearest he'll come to talking about the case.

Debra's cheeks, already slightly flushed from the warmth of the restaurant, darken still further as she touches her glass to his. "You should be careful," she tells him, eyes never leaving his. "Compliments, wine, taking me to a place like this? A girl could get ideas."

He's never seen this side of her; flirting wasn't exactly a part of whatever it was they had in the middle of all the murder and mayhem that had surrounded them. He likes it though, thinks he could get used to it and, lifting an eyebrow, comes back with, "Would that be a bad thing?" 

Debra takes a sip of wine. "I'm not your boss any more." She echoes back his earlier words before adding, "And even if I were...I'm not so sure I'd care."

The words alone would be enough to have Mike signalling for the waiter; the way she says them, the way she looks at him, has him doing it in double quick time. 

They walk the couple of blocks to the hotel hand in hand and he doesn't care who might be watching. 

*

By virtue of proximity, they end up in his room where he kisses her slowly, peels off her jacket as her fingers make short work of the buttons on his shirt.  He breaks the kiss, turns her in his arms so that he can slide the zipper of her dress down, traces the path it takes with his fingers, then his lips. He feels her shiver and it makes him smile but it doesn't make him speed up. 

The Godwinn Inn, Dutchess County, Havenport - one thing they all had in common was speed, because there was no time to stop and think about what they were doing, about the things going on outside the walls of those rooms. Those nights where they'd lain together, counting every precious minute, they were stolen moments. 

Tonight, they are stealing nothing and he wants to take his time. 

She smiles as she turns to face him, palms moving up his chest to his shoulders, pushing his shirt down his arms. Her fingers find white lines on his skin, lines that were red when last she saw them and she frowns, touching them as if she's afraid he'll break. He reaches under her chin, tilts her head up and back and captures her lips with his, shuffling blindly with her towards the bed. 

When her knees make contact with the mattress, her fingers have already undone his trousers and it's a simple matter to remove them entirely, to lay her down on the bed so that he's on top of her with only a couple of pieces of cloth between them. 

Minutes later, there's not even that, and as the desire envelopes them, Mike can only think that they should never have stopped doing this. 

Somewhere between the darkness and the dawn, when they are lying tangled in  one another, her head on his shoulder, he tells her as much. Her answer - half sleepy giggle, half smiling kiss - is the only one he wants. 


End file.
